Define alive. Charity wasn't opposed to the idea, but she found herself wondering if 'we blew its legs off with explosives' would count. Certainly it would be nice for everyone to be out of kicking range, and those big drumstick legs were awfully long. The archers were having difficulty, but maybe something with a wider blast radius...
"Fire in the hole!" she called, reaching for her special dice. Richly-engraved, twenty-sided, laced with powerful magicite; they were expensive and they were one-use until a specialist mage could recharge them, but they made that use count. Luck permitting, at any rate.
Charity closed her eyes and rolled one of the slot-dice into her palm, squeezing it tightly. She gave herself over to the vicissitudes of fortune, to the ebb and flow of luck, and hurled it right in the way of the colossal chocobo.
The die landed right at the bird's feet. It settled for only a moment before turning onto one side -- then another, then another, flipping the top digit displayed of its own accord.
3... 2... 1... and done.
17. One of the explosive faces, the most common ones. She hoped it'd be enough. "Clear out, it's gonna blow!"